Angels Among Us
by Phantom Muse
Summary: Crossover between POTO and the Nutcracker. Christine, a teenage girl in France, recieves a nutracker for Christmas but he is damaged by her younger brother. The nutcracker comes to life and is in need of Christine's assistance to save the Land of Music.
1. Chapter 1

Christine woke excitedly on twenty-fourth of December. Tonight her parents were hosting a Christmas party for all of their friends and relatives, and above that it was Christmas Eve. She was sixteen years old, but still loved the excitement and suspense of opening gifts on Christmas morning. Her younger brother, Charles, was still but a child and firmly believed in St. Nikolas. By now, Christine was well aware that there was no such thing anymore. Yes, St. Nikolas had once been a real man, but now, only his story remained. Christine dressed hurriedly, not wanting to miss any of the preperations for the coming evening's festivities. She combed her curly, chocolate hair, pulled it back in a ribbon that matched her baby blue day dress and flew down the stairs to the den where her mother stood, hanging ornaments on the large pine tree.

"Good morning, Christine," her mother greeted her with a warm smile, as she did every morning. Clair Daae was what you would expect in the perfect mother. She prepared breakfast every morning, tucked her children in every night, made sure they were taken care of before herself. A lovely woman, it was easy to see where Christine got her looks from. However, Christine most certainly recieved her brown eyes and hair from another...her father.

Christine's father, Gustav Daae, a famed violinist in Sweden, stepped into the room with a musket in hand. His boots were dirty and speckled with blood. "My two favorite ladies!" He opened his arms to Clair and Christine. "What do I have to do to recieve a hug?"

"You might want to try washing up, Gustav; you're filthy. If you want to be greeted with an embrace from either of us, you had better go take a bath and change clothes." Clair smiled at her husband with humor, but her blue eyes told a different story. She meant for him to go upstairs and do precisely as she'd instructed.

"Of course, Clair." He walked up to her and tried to kiss her cheek, but two of her fingers foiled his attempt. "The goose is hanging up outside. I'll be down shortly to get my morning greeting from you both." He laughed and disappeared up the stairs.

"How long has Papa been gone, Maman?" Christine asked as she took an ornament from the box sitting on the floor next to the tree. "I remember when Papa bought this for me." She sighed at the memory. She'd been about six years old when she saw her first opera, _Faust _by Gounod; she fell in love the operatic singing after that. The diva's range was unbelievable and her skill extraordinary. Christine wished she could do the same. After seeing the opera, it was all she talked about, and for Christmas, Gustav gave her a glass ornament with a scene from _Faust_ painted on it in miniature proportions. "I still wish I could sing like the diva." She hung it carefully on the tree and turned to see her mother smiling again. "What is it?"

"You could sing the way she did with the proper teacher; you have enough talent, but that doesn't get you anywhere without training." Clair had once been the leading soprano in a traveling opera company from France. In fact, that is precisely how she met Gustav. He'd comet owatch a performance in Paris and fell in love with Clair the moment he heard her sing; her beauty was a plus. She'd taken a bit more time to develop genuine love for him, but it wasn't long before they were married and living outside of Paris. She distinctly remembered telling Gustav that if they had a daughter, she would have a voice for the stage, and she was one hundred percent correct. Though Christine refused to believe she could ever sing as well as the diva from _Faust_ or her mother, Clair knew her daughter would one day win the heart of France with her voice.

"Oh, Maman." Christine turned away and continued hanging ornaments and other decorations on the tree. "It isn't as though the Angel of Music is going to come be my teacher. I'll confine such a fantasy to my dreams." Christine hung the last ornament and asked, "What will you have me do now, Maman?"

"We have to get started on the goose if we want it ready by tonight. Go fill the big cooking pot with water and put it on the stove to start boiling. I'll go bleed the goose; by the time I'm done with that, the water should be boiling, and we'll drop it in there for a spell to be rid of the feathers."

"Yes, Maman." Christine went to the cabinet to retrieve the pitcher they used to fill the cook pot and start the fire in the hearth. As she reached to open the cabinet, her brother stepped in the way. "Charles, please, move aside." She tried not to show her impatience. "Do you need something from in here? If not, go somewhere else to loiter. Mother has given me a task, and you are standing in my way."

"What exactly did Maman tell you to do?" he questioned, folding his arms and giving her a look that told her he was not going to move until he got an answer.

"I have to fill the bigcook pot with water and start a fire beneath it in the hearth. We have to defeather the goose Papa killed this morning. Now, will you kindly leave?"

"Fine." He walked off, no doubt to play with his toy soldiers. Charles was a stubborn boy with their mother's blonde hair and blue eyes, but was hard-headed like their father.

"Thank goodness," she muttered to herself as he walked away. Taking out the pitcher, she began to fill it with water, which she emptied into the cookpot until it was half full. She then lit the kindling and wood beneath the pot and stepped away, watching the flames grow, devouring the wood.

After a while, Christine and Clair had finished cleaning and plucking the goose, and now it was roasting over the wildly dancing flames. Even though they tried to keep clean, neither managed to keep from getting their clothes dirty. It didn't really matter, they would change for the party tonight anyway, and they had no plans of going anywhere before then. There was far too much to do about the house to prepare.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine waited anxiously in the parlor the house, wondering why the guests weren't here yet. She looked at the clock...only 7:23. The party wasn't until eight. She sighed heavily and went to the den to admire the Christmas tree and daydream of being a famous diva for a world renowned opera comapny. She sat down on the floor and examined each gift under the tree, opening them all in her mind. She imagined some were for her, some for Charles, and some for her parents. In her short dream, she recieved a new dress, Charles got another toy soldier to add to his fast growing collection. Her father gave her mother a lovely necklace with a heart-shaped jewel filling in the mold; her father got a new violin bow and polish.

"Christine, would you go check on your brother, please," her mother called.

Christine went up the stairs, listening intently for any sounds that would indicate that Charles was hiding around the next corner. He was still too young for late night parties, but since their mother's broher, Uncle Castour, was coming and always wanted to see his neice and nephew, Charles was allowed to stay up until nine and no later. "Charles, come down to the parlor! The guests will be here any moment!" No answer. She went to his room and knocked on the door, repeating her last statement. When he did not answer again, she opened the door, but he was not there. "Charles?" She felt panicked not knowing where her little brother was. "Charles!" She cried, searching the surrounding rooms.

"What do you want, Christine?" He appeared out of nowhere. "Why are you yelling so much? I'm not deaf, you know."

"Then perhaps you should come when your name is called the first time, if you aren't deaf, as you claim. We have to go downstairs; the guests will be arriving soon."

"Who made you boss? You're acting like mother." He leaned against the wall, staring at her defiantly.

"Mother sent me to find you, and if you don't get downstairs, I'm sure neither Mother nor Father would mind sending you to bed, rather than permitting you to stay up for the party," she hissed, a devillish smile on her lips; she knew she'd won this round. Charles had said he would do anything to stay up for the party. _So gullible_, she thought.

Guests began to arrive on schedule, hanging their coats on the wrack and greeting Madam and Monsieur Daae, as well as there two children. All the young men who passed kissed Christine's hand and smiled; the girls and ladies hugged her and went on their ways. Once the majority had arrived, everyone ate, drank, and made merry in the den. The ladies gossiped and the men discussed the weather and taxes. Christine intermingled with the women for a short while before she grew bored and went to the window to look at the stars, while Charles did his best to understand what his father and the other male guests were talking about.

The night ended around ten. Charles was sitting groggily in a chair, doing his best not to fall asleep. Christine was helping her mother clean up when a knock came at the door. "I'll get it." Christine hurried to the door, not knowing who it was but excited to find something else to do. "Hello?" She opened the door to find their uncle, Rupert Castour. "Uncle Rupert!" She embraced him warmly.

"Hello, my darling Christine! My how you've grown!" He kissed her cheek. "Clair! Gustav!" He moved to his sister and brother-in-law, hugging them. "Merry Christmas. Where is young Charles?" Looking about, he added, "I have a gift for him and Christine." The emphasis on his final statement was Charles' cue to come running into the room. "There he is!" Rupert hugged his nephew and kissed the top of his head. "come. Let us go to the den, and I'll give you each your gifts."

Christine followed her brother into the den, while Rupert follwed close behind with Clair and Gustav a short distance behind, laughing warmly at their children's behavior. Once Charles and Christine had settled on the sofa, Rupert took out two boxes; the larger one he handed to Christine and the smaller to Charles. Both eagerly opened them and gasped at what they saw. Charles had two new soldiers to add to his collection an English dragoon and an Persian swordsman. Christine held before her a brightly colored nutcracker.

"Oh, Uncle Rupert, he's so handsome! Thank you!" Christine kissed her uncle and sat down with the nutcracker. "I love him."

"I'm glad you do. Well, how do you like yours, Charles?"

"They're great! Thank you so much, Uncle Rupert." Charles, too, hugged Rupert and sat down to play with his new soldiers. "I've always wanted a dragoon! The Persian swordsman is a plus!"

Clair and Gustav smiled as their children enjoyed the early gifts from Rupert. "I also have something for you," Gustav whispered to Clair. "I want to give it to you now, rather than waiting until morning." He left her said and stooped below the tree, retrieving a small box. Returning, he handed it to his wife and insisted that she open it.

Clair pulled the ribbon off carefully, not wanting to break it; then she lifted the top and covered her mouth with the hand that had just dropped the ribbon and top of the small box to the ground. "Gustav!" She stumbled back into his arms. "It's gorgeous!"

"Like you." Gustav lifted a gold locket from the box and put it around Clair's neck, making certain not to catch her hair in the clasp. "What do you think?"

"I love it." She kissed him lovingly. "I think I'll give the old one to Christine." She took off the other one and walked up to Christine where she sat on the floor, admiring her new nutcracker "Christine, darling." Christine got up and looked at her mother curiously. "I want you to have this. It's the locket your father gave me when we were first married."

"Thank you, Mother, but it's yours." Christine tried to refuse the generous offer, as it was her mother's favorite necklace. "I'd be afraid of losing it."

"Child, one day, you will move away from us and need something to remember us by." Clair put it around her daughter's neck. "Take good care of it for me." She kissed Christine's cheek and smiled at her little family. "Gustav, I have your gift upstairs. Come with me to get it, if you will?" Clair tugged at her husband's arm, pulling him towards the stairs.

"Go on, Gustav. I'll look after the young ones for a bit." Rupert urged his sister and brother-in-law to go. "I can handle them."

Clair and Gustav disappeared up the stairs, leaving Rupert, Christine, and Charles in the den enjoying the evening. "Christine, I want to use your nutcracker as the leader of my army!" Charles had the sudden notion to take the nutcracker from Christine's hands. He took hold of it and began to pull.

"Charles, let go! He's mine. Please, you're going to break him." Christine pulled against him, trying desperately to keep her beloved nutcracker from the clutches of her brother.

Charles gave one last tug and wripped it from Christine's arms. However, he lost his balance and fell, sending the nutcracker into the fire place. "Oops! I'm sorry, Christine! I...I didn't mean to!"

Christine rushed to her beloved toy's rescue and pulled him from the flames, barely escaping being burned herself. The nutcracker wasn't as lucky. His once brightly colored clothes were now scorched black and the right side of his face burned so badly it was almost unrecognizable. "Charles, what have you done? He's ruined!" She sobbed on the sofa, holding the nutcracker to her chest.

"Now, Christine, we can fix him. We'll paint his clothes black and cover the right side of his face with a mask." Rupert took the toy from Christine and looked at the damage. "It shouldn't be too difficult. Come." He went into the kitchen and found a recently used can of paint and painted over the remaining color and the burnt areas of the nutcracker and then stood him on his feet. He then commenced to making a little white, half mask for the toy. It was relatively simple. A bit of cloth cut to the shape of the nutcracker's face, dipped in glue, served as the mask. It turned out quite nicely. "There you are." Rupert handed the toy back to his niece and smiled. "Does he look all right?"

"He's not as beautifully colored as he was before, but I will love him the same. Thank you, Uncle Rupert." Christine hugged Rupert and bid him goodnight as he went to bed, along with Charles. She insisted on staying up to make sure nothing happened to her nutcracker. Once she was certain he was not going to fall apart suddenly, she took him to the den where she fell fast asleep with him in her arms.


	3. Chapter 3

The clock chimed midnight. The Nutcracker flinched in Christine's arm, life surging through his wooden body. He worked his stiff joints and stared at his hands, not completely understanding how he'd come to this form. Realizing the enormous object clinging to him, he tilted his head up and gasped at the woman holding tight to him. She was absolutely beautiful; her chocolate locks were sleak and shiney, her lips were lucious and full, and her skin was pale and perfect.

A strange sound drew his attention to a miniature Nativity scene on the mantle. A pair of mice scurried across the mantle, knocking over any figure in their way. They moved to the Christmas tree where they began to knock ornaments off the tree and carry the broken pieces away; they also took pieces of branches. All of this they took to a small crevice in the wall beside the fireplace. The nutcracker leaped from Christine's arms to the floor and ran at the mice, drawing his sword. "Begone, you pests!" he cried, lunging at one, piercing it's chest.

By now, another, larger rodent had appeared, carrying a septor. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite nutcracker. I thought by reducing you to a toy's form, you'd be much less of a nuisance, but I can see that I was wrong. We'll just have to whiddle you down some more." He swung at the Nutcracker, catching the blade of his sword.

"As if I could be stopped that easily." The Nutcracker leaped back, avoiding another attempted blow from his opponent.

All the commotion woke Christine from her sleep. She looked for her nutcracker on the sofa and floor but could not find him. "Where has he gone?" She felt like crying for having lost him. Then, the clang of metal clashing drew her attention towards the fireplace where she saw her nutcracker and a mouse fighting. "Nutcracker!" she exclaimed, hurrying towards her toy.

The shout caused the Nutcracker to turn in Christine's direction and drop his guard long enough for the mouse to strike a blow that knocked the Nutcracker down, making him lose his sword. "Stay back!" he ordered Christine as he crawled towards his weapon.

"What? You talk?" Christine was stunned; she'd never heard of toys talking before. She noticed the mouse drawing near her precious toy, ready to strike a mortal blow. Christine picked up the mouse by his tail and looked at him angrily. "Leave my nutcracker alone, you dirty vermon!" she commanded.

"You will unhand me, giant." With a wave of his septor, the mouse put a spell on Christine that shrank her to the size of a child's doll...just a bit shorter than the nutcracker.

Again, the mouse drew near to her favorite toy, preparing to strike. This time, Christine took off her slipper and threw it, hitting the mouse square between the eyes, knocking him unconscious. "Take that!" she exclaimed happily.

"Thank you," said the Nutcracker, picking himself up and sheathing his sword. "Do I dare to presume that you are the one who did this to me?" He pointed to his mask. "I know that I haven't always been dressed in black or wore a mask."

"Oh, no! It wasn't me, but my brother Charles. I'm so sorry," she begged his forgiveness. "My uncle and I repaired you. You see, my brother tried to take you from me, and you fell into the fire. Your clothes were scorched so we painted them black and the right side of your face was very marred, so we made you a mask. It doesn't look bad; it adds a sense of mystery to you."

"Well, I thank you for at least not letting me burn and covering the damage to the best of your abilities." He turned away. "What is your name?"

"Christine. What is yours?"

"I do not know. I suppose you may call me Nutcracker for the time being," he answered, looking into the crevice where the mice had dragged their leader. "I'm afraid I must go. The Land of Music, which the Mouse king rules over, is in great parol. All those who resist his rule will be accused of treason and killed...which is nearly the entire kingdom. I have to help stop him."

"But he's king. If they oppose him, then they _are_ committing treason."

"He's not the real king...just a care-taker of the throne. Farewell, Christine." He bowed and walked through the hole.

"Wait! I want to help you, Nutcracker!" She ran after him. "Please, I know I can be of some assistance." She touched his shoulder. "Let me come with you."

"It will be very dangerous, Christine. Are you sure you wish to put your own life in jeopardy to save that of those you do not know in a foreign land?" He gazed at her sternly. In his eyes was a pleading of sorts...telling her that he would really like the warm company but there was also another plea for her to stay behind. "I leave the choice to you."

"I will go. Besides, you're _my_ nutcracker. I don't want anything to happen to you." She smiled at him. "Lead the way."

"Very well, but you must stay close and be ready for anything. Hold my hand." Taking her hand in his own, he led the way through the dark, checking around every twist and turn. After several minutes, the ground beneath them disappeared, and they began to fall into what seemed to be a never ending void.


End file.
